


Song Bird

by ihoardlibrarians



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Harp - Freeform, Hidden Talents, Music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 11:21:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18690481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ihoardlibrarians/pseuds/ihoardlibrarians
Summary: Fenris found a harp in the basement and plans to sell it.





	Song Bird

**Author's Note:**

> Couldn’t sleep so this happened.

Hawke stood outside the abandoned estate, her fist poised over the door. She couldn’t bring herself to knock. What if he didn’t want to see her? They argued, again, over the fate of mages in Kirkwall. It wasn’t that he didn’t have a very good reason to feel the way he did, Hawke probably would too in his position, but Fenris advocates for restrictions that her father taught her were worse than death. She would not dishonor her father by giving in to them. 

 

Hawke sighed and turned away from the door. Fenris probably didn’t want to see her anyway. Before she could leave, however, the door creaked open behind her. 

 

“Hawke?”

 

She jumped a little, startled by her friend standing in the doorway, a bottle of wine dangling from his fingertips. She tried to smile. 

 

“Just checking to see how you’re settling in. If you need anything.” Hawke held her hands behind her back, unsure what else to do with them. Fenris opened his door wide enough for her to enter.

 

Hawke slipped inside, her eyes adjusting to the darkness. Fenris kept to one room of the mansion and didn’t bother to maintain the rest of the building. It still bore marks from their first battle through in search of Danarius.

 

She followed Fenris up through the house to the room he’d claimed as his own. Shards of glass glittered on the floor against the wall and a game of Wicked Grace was laid out on the table. It looked like Fenris had been practicing. 

 

“Trying to keep up with Isabela and Varric?” Hawke asked. 

 

“I’m not bad, but I could always be better,” he responded. He took a sip from his bottle before offering it to her. Hawke waved it off. 

 

“Alcohol does funny things to my magic. But thank you.”

 

Fenris shrugged and set the bottle down. “It must be hard having so many friends who hang out at pubs, then.”

 

Hawke didn’t answer. Instead, she was distracted by something she hadn’t seen in a very long time. 

 

“Where did this harp come from?”

 

Fenris looked over. “That? I found it in the basement. I’m going to ask Varric to help me sell it.”

 

Hawke ran her fingers over the crown of the instrument. “This is a Dalish harp,” she said. “See the carvings? Merrill could probably tell us more but I think this is the Dread Wolf.” Hawke plucked one of the strings and winced as a sour sound echoed through the room.

 

“You won’t sell it for much if the buyer has to spend a long time tuning it.” She pulled up a chair and plucked away at the strings as she turned the tuning pegs. Fenris watched, amazed. 

 

“You play?”

 

“A little,” Hawke answered. “I had my own harp in Lothering. I was going to leave magic behind and become a bard in Orlais. But then father died and someone had to protect Bethany.” Hawke fell silent as she focused on making the harp playable. It wasn’t long before her knuckles and back ached, but she eventually got the harp sorted. She ran her fingers across the strings and sighed. She loved that sound. 

 

She raised her arms to position and played for the first time in four years. She let the music spill from her fingertips and sang.

 

“ _ I'm not calling you a liar, just don't lie to me _

_ I'm not calling you a thief, just don't steal from me _

_ I'm not calling you a ghost, just stop haunting me _

_And I love you so much—”_

 

Hawke stopped suddenly. Fenris stirred, confused. He had gotten comfortable listening to her, finding out something amazing and new about her, but now it was gone. Hawke stared down at her hands, frowning. 

 

“Hawke, that was—“

 

“I’m rusty, I know,” she said as she stood up. Her fingers lingered on the pillar of the instrument, but she pulled herself away. “Don’t let Varric sell this for less than ten sovereigns. Also, don’t tell Varric I know anything about it. I’ll never live it down.”

 

Fenris smiled. He knew the teasing would be limitless if anyone found out their favorite bird of prey was actually a songbird all along. He watched her leave. He’d have to make up a time reason why Varric couldn’t sell the harp after all.


End file.
